


Pub Series, The - Story 1 Politics

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 2nd Age - Pre-Rings, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2002-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England…. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Yep another weird style story featuring our favorite hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin and a few others, including Fatty and Lotho.

**Authors Notes:** Yep another weird style story featuring our favorite hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin and a few others, including Fatty and Lotho.

Listen to the songs recommended at the end of most chapters. There are good drinking songs, great Celtic verse, tragic tales, and wonderful fighting songs. Some of the songs listed in this story can be found in full play on http://www.celticradio.net/Prequests.shtml. I tried to put links to the lyrics when legally available.

**Story Notes:** This is the opening chapter. Pippin has had one too many and is arguably still underage to even be in a bar.

\-----

Pippin closed his eyes leaning his head back until it made contact with the wall behind him with a slight "thud". He took another sip of ale, his second half pint that night, at least that's what he told his cousin Frodo. He was feeling muzzy, a good reaction. He rather enjoyed closing his eyes and having his head spin ever so lightly, like when he would whirl the youngersters around and around by their arms or legs. They'd beg and beg Pippin to swing them about. He'd gladly comply as it made him dizzy as well. It was great fun for everyone involved. Most adults wouldn't play with the young ones like Pippin did. Well, Pip was really 28 and not yet an adult himself, not for another 5 years, but he was certainly big enough to qualify for one and because he associated with the older lads and lasses quite a bit these days, he considered himself quiet mature.

Tonight was turning into such a pleasant evening. Frodo Baggins, the eldest cousin he could call a friend, had allowed him to come along to the pub where they were to meet up with everyone to discuss some brouhaha forming over the upcoming rainy season. Frodo had said something about the cousins pulling their fair share of responsibilities in Shire matters if they ever expected to be taken seriously as adults. Most were just of age and some were considering marriage or at least they were to settle down. Of the current generation only he, Peregrin Took, and three of the Brandybucks, Doderic, Ilberic and Celandin, were still underage. There were some Burrows, a Sackville-Baggins, and a Proudfoot who were distantly related, but the gang had pretty much given them up for lost on this latest endeavor. They most all lived in the comfort of the North and Center of the Shire. It seemed that the Hobbiton kin were a little harder to motivate than those living in the South and West Farthings. Actually, most hobbits were hard to move to action when said action involved anything more stressful than the daily chores and maybe a walk down to the pub in the evening. Except maybe that Proudfoot. Sancho! Sometimes he could be persuaded to act on a prank. Now, Sancho was born the same year as Pip, and wasn't he a cousin on Pippin's father's side? If Pip traced back far enough…. genealogy was a passion of his ~ why, yes, Sancho was his fourth cousin…. oh, and there was that day they had met for the first time. It was at Falco Chubb-Baggins final birthday party. Old Falco had been 96. He died later that fall. But it had been a GRAND party, as parties go. Most birthday parties were grand, but this one had been really GRAND. Lots of presents for everyone, more food than Pip had ever seen, it being his first big bash, and dancing and singing, and …… the honey mead. They were both 9 and hell bent on finding mischief. It was Sancho's idea but he didn't have the nerve to pull it off. Pippin, being far more reckless than anyone ever imagined a hobbit to be (poor Eglantine, she never knew what surprising prank her son would pull next) set into motion the not soon forgotten "Falco Chubb-Baggins-Final-Birthday Disaster".

* * *

Want to listen to one of Pip's favorite drinking songs? Goto http://www.savageresearch.com/jester/barley.html , scroll down, and click on **"Bring Us More Beer"**. Brought to you by the Poxy Boggards ~ a FINE singing group of 6 handsome men who hang out at my bar occasionally. Actually, I can't call it "mine", I'm the hired help. I manage The Green Man Inn's bar. 


	2. Thinking Too Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'POLITICS', actually the second story in the Pub Series (Illusions was the first but we're calling Politics the first now) involves our youngest hobbits coming into their own in the Shire and facing up to the fact that mundane tasks must tackled. This story was inspired by MarigoldG who wanted to hear Pippin sing. It's mainly a Pippin Centric story with the others popping in, one at a time to give their view of the world, Pippin, and of course their eldest cousin Frodo.

**Story Notes:** 'POLITICS', actually the second story in the Pub Series (Illusions was the first but we're calling Politics the first now) involves our youngest hobbits coming into their own in the Shire and facing up to the fact that mundane tasks must tackled. This story was inspired by MarigoldG who wanted to hear Pippin sing. It's mainly a Pippin Centric story with the others popping in, one at a time to give their view of the world, Pippin, and of course their eldest cousin Frodo.  
\---------------

Oh that fateful "Falco Chubb-Baggins-Final-Birthday Disaster". If Sancho had just been able to keep Pippin on his shoulders long enough for Pippin to reach the shelf with the mead on it, they wouldn't have fallen into the shelves below with all of the meats, baked goods, potatoes, fruits, oh…. EVERYTHING. It was truly a disaster of momentous proportions! Pippin couldn't sit down for a week after the strapping he took for THAT little adventure. It probably would have worked except that the two of them had already finished off a half bottle of that sweet honey mead they'd removed from a side board and neither was thinking too clearly. It should have taught Pippin a lesson. Think things through before engaging in potentially hazardous adventures. But he was a Took and impetuous. He still liked mead to this day… and so did Sancho, who, bless his naïve little hobbit heart, never even considered blaming Pippin for the debacle and took a beating as well. They would most likely still get into trouble if they lived closer to each other.

Ah, yes, Sancho was a fourth cousin and could definitely be counted on to participate if persuaded in the right way. Relations were a good thing. You could count on them when necessary and ignore them when need be. Pip got to thinking which was something he didn't like to do when he had set his mind on becoming thoroughly smashed ….. the more he thought on it, the more he was convinced everyone in the Shire was related. Oi! Did he really want to claim them all? He'd have to take on the responsibility of convincing them to Frodo's plan! That's what they'd all agreed on, to convince relations to vote on some thing or other. Noooo, nooooooooo, he wouldn't claim everyone, just the fun ones….. the Tooks. Like his sisters. And Everad and Ferdibrand (Tooks both). He didn't have to worry about Meriadoc Brandybuck (who was half Took), Fredegar Bolger (another half Took) and Frodo (who was only ¼ Took but looked and acted more Tookish than most of them) as they were the instigators of "The Plan". It really wouldn't be hard for him to do his part, persuade his sisters to help persuade the older Tooks (his father, the Thain, for one) to support whatever it was Frodo wanted. He couldn't remember just now, the ale was surely doing its job. But Pip was convinced the idea was a good one. Frodo's ideas were always good. Not necessarily fun, but generally good for everyone involved. Frodo was so sensible. A lot like Merry. Well, it stood to reason, both had strong Brandybuck heritage and living where they were born took a lot of initiative to stay alive sometimes, what with being on the edge of the wilds and all. Not to mention living in Brandy Hall with a million relations and not all of them necessarily on speaking terms. Frodo was lucky to get out of that situation. Merry could handle it, he was cocky, headstrong, and he had a mouth backed up by ready fists. But Frodo was meant for something easier than scrapping over things like food and sleeping quarters and chores and the attention of adults. 

~ end Chapter 2

* * *

Here's a great Irish Fight song. It songs like this I get to hear after I've made Last Call and The O'Neil's boys come rolling down the street on their way home. Our landlord is Chief of the Clan Mac Colin, so the O'Neil's lads don't come in too often, but they're a fun lot (not that Chief's aren't fun, I love all those hearty lads in kilts!) The shout of "Aboo!" means "Hurrah! To victory!" and when several huge celts come down your street with their hair flying and their weapons shouldered shouting Aboo! you understand why the English trembled.

Goto http://www.artistdirect.com/store/artist/album/0,,277785,00.html and click on "The O Donnell Aboo" it's the Clancy Brothers ~ 28 Irish Pub Songs.   
Lyrics on http://ingeb.org/songs/proudlyn.html


	3. Now, Seriously Thinking Too Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Well whether Frodo ever got the attention he needed when he was young, he surely got it now. Nearly everyone in the Shire had heard about that Baggins' Plan. Though in truth many agreed it would be good. Just no one wanted to bother. Pippin rolled his head to the right and opened an eye ever so slightly to catch a look at the chief plotters. Frodo was deep in conversation with Samwise Gamgee. They were both animated but quietly so, with Frodo earnest and Sam crossing his arms over his chest to emphasis some point lost on Pippin.

Not that Pip liked the lads, in that way, but he thought Frodo quite handsome still, for his age. He had the Took look, thin and tall (for a hobbit) and fair skinned. Pippin hoped he looked that good at 35, 40… how old was Frodo? My! 50 now wasn't it? Frodo was the cousin caught between generations. He was the oldest of one group and the youngest of the other. And considering how hobbitish (meaning 'stodgy' in Pippin's view) the older group was, Frodo tended to associate with the younger crowd. Who could blame him? The older lads and lasses tended to shun him as the 'lost' relation, being considered a tad odd. He'd been orphaned at 12 and shuffled between aunts and uncles for years before being adopted by his cousin Bilbo Baggins. He'd run wild for a number of years until he was moved from the rough country of Buckland into the comfort and security of Bag End in Hobbiton. That sort of stormy upbringing would cause just about any sane hobbit to be a touch fey. Pippin was caught between the generations, too, being the youngest of one and the oldest of the other, but in his case, he was forward, bold and loved attention, even when it was negative. Which he got, it seemed, whenever he opened his mouth. But one thing was certain, Frodo was a charmer and had a way with words. Such a quiet demeanor that most hobbits didn't know they'd been talked out of their point of view or convinced of something that just yesterday they had adamantly supported.

Of course Pippin was too young to know any of Frodo's upbringing first hand. He heard stories from Merry who had been Frodo's best friend in Brand Hall before and after Frodo was adopted out. But he HAD experienced, first hand, Frodo's ability to diffuse hot situations. It was often Frodo who talked Pippin's father, Paladin, or Baker Grubbs, or the Baggins' gardener, Old Hamfast, or even Bilbo, whom everyone called Uncle, out of punishing Pippin for the pranks that sometimes went awry.


	4. The Good Old Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Oh, those pranks….. Pippin finished his ale, smiled fondly, and closed his eyes again. During summer months, Merry would spend weeks in Tookborough while his father, the Master of Buckland, conducted business "in town". With Merry's mother and Pip's father's being sister and brother, it only made sense that Merry stay there as they were such close relations and Seradoc could trust Paladin to keep an eye on his son, Meriadoc. At first, Pippin was too young to know what he was missing out on when Merry would take off for Bag End early mornings to go visit Frodo. Merry missed Frodo something fierce since Frodo's move and they would make up for lost time by devising elaborate games and outings all summer long. But once Merry discovered that the young Pippin had no fear of ANYTHING and was quite gullible, he was dragging the youngster with him whenever he could talk Pippin's father into letting them both go out.

Merry being Pippin's closest cousin and Frodo's best friend, got away with inviting Pippin along on many an adventure, though he was really so much younger than everyone else. Unbeknownst to him, everyone agreed to the little tag along because Merry convinced the older lads he knew he could talk Pippin into doing ANYTHING and because Pip was so much younger, he was smaller than any of them. This meant they could easily hoist him up into the branches of a fruit tree and talk him into climbing high up to reach the BIGGEST peaches or apples or plums. None of the smaller lads could conquer their fear of heights enough to climb that high and all the older ones who could climb couldn't get that high. Or they'd push him through a frightfully small hole in the fence surrounding which ever farmer's fields they decided to attack that day. He was always game for a quick incursion into those crops just begging to be liberated. Especially since it earned him the respect of the older lads. Or after distracting the adults at a party and picking the lock on a pantry they were obviously supposed to stay OUT of, they would shove him in, relock the door, loiter about, and then as if on cue, reverse the process of distraction and picking the lock, this time dragging him OUT of the pantry always much to their delight as Pippin never failed to come out with anything less than some tastiest treat; treacle, tarts, honey combs, and once an entire tray of mince tarts which they all ate with runcible spoons.

Pippin would eagerly wait for the gang to come collect him up on summer mornings. He was oh so reckless and knew no caution. And they rewarded him by letting him accompany them. This was pure joy for Pippin! He worked harder at learning how to act older than he ever studied at his letters. He started smoking at a younger age than any of them. And he could out drink some before his 25th birthday. He amazed them all and sometimes irritated them to the point of nearly being throttled on more than one occasion. Yet everyone took care of him. They'd never send him home drunk. One would take the mission of trundling him off to stay with Frodo at Bag End while one or two others would stop by his parents on their way home and report that he had decided to stay over at his cousin's. They'd scream and yell at the farmer's brutish dogs as the evil creatures chased Pippin from the fields. Of course they were always on the other side of the fence. But still they threatened to castrate the beasts (not that the dogs understood this, but it made Pippin smile) and threw stones to keep them at bay as Pippin tossed the sacks of thieved goods over the fence and squeezed through to safety.


	5. Red Herring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Ah, those were the days. Now Pippin was too big for those exacting tasks but the older lads continued to invite him along. It had become habit. He was still quite young and acted it, far too often for some, but Pip didn't really care. Even now, he had no fear, no caution and no worries. Unlike Frodo and Merry. Ay! where WAS Merry? Late… not like him, not at all. Must be working hard on convincing someone of Frodo's plan. Merry'd do anything for Frodo and supporting this initiative was something Merry was taking serious. Well, he'd better get here soon if he expected any ale to be left! Pip opened both eyes and took a look around. No Merry. No Fatty. No Folco. No Moro. Just Frodo and Sam. Frodo caught his eye and winked, noticing the very empty mug.

"Another one, Pippin-lad?" Frodo asked as he collected up all three empties. 

Sam frowned. "I think the lad's had a few too many as it is, Mr. Frodo, if you don't mind my saying. We'll be rolling him home as it is…."

"What do you mean, Samwise Gamgee! I can still see your face, so I'm not drunk enough!" laughed Pippin, joking with the gardener's son turned personal servant, turned good friend of Pippin's benefactor, who was now ambling up to the bar with the three mugs.

"Oh, you IMP! You never give, do you? Some day that mouth of yours is going to get you in a load o' trouble, if your actions don't go beatin' you to it! You outta know your place." Sam felt more like an older brother to the young Took than his proper station, servant to Master Peregrin's cousin. Pippin never stood on formalities, they made him uncomfortable, so he urged Sam to speak his mind and be on a somewhat friendly basis with him. So, sometimes, in private, Sam would drop the formalities with Pippin especially when he saw the Took heading for trouble. Big brothers were supposed to watch out for little ones. It was something they were both comfortable with though Sam was cautious not to do it in public.

Pippin just ignored Sam, as he always did. Sam could be quite officious sometimes but Pippin didn't mind. He was a genuine lad and took care of Frodo's gardens and home very nicely. And more importantly he managed to drag Frodo away from whatever book or treatise he was reading and out to the pub occasionally, which suited Pip because Frodo always bought and always included Pippin. He watched Frodo turn from the bar with the ales. One of the barmaids spied him trying to balance the unwieldy mugs and charmingly plucked them from his hands before they spilt. Of course this maneuver was a studied ploy. Frodo had carried more than three mugs of ale at one time before. He smiled his thanks to the very pretty barmaid. She smiled back with a flirt and wink. This caused Sam to blush furiously as both he and Pippin were watching the exchange. 

Sam always blushed whenever he looked at a lass! He'd never be getting one of his own if he didn't pluck up his courage and take after Frodo a bit. Frodo was a candle to a moth when it came to the lasses. All he had to do was look their way and they tittered behind their hands. Pippin was taking lessons. One thing he liked of Frodo's style over that of Merry (who was lucky because he was bold and sassy and just a little dangerous) was that Frodo promised with a look and never with a touch. It made the lasses feel safe that he never reached out for a pinch or a feel. They'd come sit in his lap if he'd let them, he was that handsome and they felt that confident with him. 

Pippin was practicing this technique and so far it had worked. The barmaid with the bright yellow bodice had come over last week and nearly ran her hand through his hair. He thought he was going to faint when she gave him a look that said, "later". He hadn't enough experience to give an answering look and she'd gone her way with a little laugh. As the ales arrived in the capable hands of the delightful wait-staff, Pippin gave an exact copy of Frodo's smile up at her. He carefully kept his hand off hers as he reached out for his mug. She did a double take at the smile. Put off guard by Pippin's now completely innocent look she beamed a smile back at him. Pip nearly shouted at the success. It wasn't lost on either Sam or Frodo. Sam ducked his head in sheer embarrassment and Frodo looked up at the ceiling. Pippin pushed it one step further and lowered his eyes for a second and then looked back up under his lashes. He was rewarded with the sweetest look he'd ever been given and he chalked up a true victory in the act of courting. A sharp hail from the bartender sent the lass to jump and she was off in a flash but not without a promising glance back over her shoulder at the shy young lad sitting at the back table now humming quietly to himself. She didn't know it was an act. Pippin was far from shy. If shy was her liking then she'd do better to lend her attentions to the other lad sitting at the table, who had turned 15 shades of red when she'd walked up.

"Aren't you a bit young for that game?" chided Frodo as he sat down, trying to keep from laughing out loud. 

"Just practicing what I see as a winning move, Frodo" Pippin answered after a mouthful of ale. "Thanks, by the by, this is JUST what I needed" and he'd sighed as he resumed his previous position, head back, eyes closed, smile on his lips. Silence settled over the trio for a moment. Finally Pippin looked up, serious now, and the other two took note of the change. "Say, Frodo… if you don't mind me asking…. why is it that you've not picked up on any of the Shire beauties? I mean, you could have your choice. I've been watching for years now…"

"And taking notes, I see" Frodo smirked trying to deflect the conversation. He knew were it was heading. He had it before with his Uncle Bilbo, with Merry, with Sam, Stars in the Sky, with Fatty and with his well meaning Aunt Peony, even. "You're actually getting quite good at flirting. Now, will you teach Sam here? He needs some help! He's been eyeing Rosie Cotton for what seems a century!"

"SIR! Don't go talkin' like that! You're a terrible one, you are! Now you know, I'm just good friends with young Rosie's brothers…. I don't intend on …. on…. OH!" and Sam turned even redder than conceivable. Frodo's ploy had worked, he'd thrown Pippin off the scent.


	6. Bees Hum and so does a Pippin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Frodo had throw Pippin off the scent; or so he had thought. Frodo smiled inwardly at his craftiness. Ah, age triumphs over youth again!

"You're going on middle age in a few years Frodo Baggins and I'm fairly sure you're not into the lads or I think I would have heard rumors and all. And then there was that bit what I overheard Gardenia Bowles telling my sister Pearl about a certain moonlight walk she and you took, oh, when was it, about 10 years ago…. My, but you were friskier in your youth! I reckon you were downright lucky you weren't forced into marriage after THAT!" 

Now it was Frodo who blushed. He'd thought that night a secret from everyone but he should have known that in Hobbiton, no one could keep secrets. He just shook his head and let his face cool.

"OI! I *knew* it! So, tell me, tell me, tell me" Pippin was practically bouncing into Frodo's lap, "what gives!? Why don't you just pick one and settle?"

"Oh, Pip! I wish it were that easy!" sighed Frodo. He had said this next speech so many times he was beginning to feel he should write it down and post it with the bans on the Mayor's office door. "The lasses I take a fancy too don't really like the idea that I can't seem to be satisfied with sitting in my parlor for the rest of my life. You know me! If I'm not locked away studying, I'm off hiking or wandering. That's no life for a lass and they all know it by now. I may still get the glances but I fear I've been labeled with Uncle Bilbo's mark. I'm *mad* don't you know?" Frodo raised his eyebrows and crooked a sad little smile at the youngster.

All three hobbits all looked down at their ales. After a moment Pippin raised his up. The others raised theirs in response to the anticipated toast. "May we all find happiness in the arms of the lass we are meant to love for the rest of our days".

"Aye" replied Sam with a small smile.

"Indeed" Frodo answered, and then after a bit, "That would be nice". He smiled wryly, back to his old self with a bright smile and a gleam in his eye.

But the conversation still stalled. Pippin leaned back again as the fiddler who had been rosining his bow started up a quick little jig. He was back to thinking. Frodo didn't seem any older than Merry's 36 years or Sam's 38. But he was so serious about being thought an odd one. Maybe it was the Brandybuck in him… or the Baggin

Folks that might be called jealous sometimes referred to Frodo as "That Brandybuck" as if it were an insult! Actually it was an insult when they changed it to "That Jumped Up Brandybuck". Jealous that rich old *mad* Bilbo had taken him in and made him heir to Bag End. Resentful of his good looks. Envious of his unflappable attitude. OI! And the epitome of envy took that moment to walk through the pub's open door in the form of Lotho Baggins. Frodo's third cousin, closest of the Baggins to Frodo in age (Daisy didn't count even though she was Frodo's first cousin, she was 8 years younger and really sweet….. besides she'd married a Boffin and moved away). Lotho was always going on how Old Bilbo should have taken HIM as his heir as Lotho was a closer relation to Bilbo than the Jumped Up Brandybuck.

Pippin thanked his lucky stars that Lotho Baggins wasn't HIS cousin. That, that, ….. that lout was NO fun and that was certainly the truth! And he sure caused Frodo and Uncle Bilbo no end of grief. Well, to be sure, it wasn't all Lotho's fault, being raised by that screech owl of a mother. Pippin began to loose that hazy feeling thinking on nasty thoughts, so he drank down half his ale with a toss of his mug. He felt himself slipping and caught himself just as Frodo reached over to keep him from falling off the bench. Sam snorted and gave Frodo a look akin to "I told you so". Frodo just wedged his shoulder up against Pippin's and rolled his eyes. 

Sam had engaged Frodo in the original conversation, or argument, or discussion, it was hard for Pip to tell.  
He wasn't out yet, he was trying to stay conscience to give Merry a bad time for being late. Fatty had said he'd be lucky if he made it tonight, but Merry had said he'd meet them there before too late. It was a long way from Buckland and if he didn't finish his task early enough yesterday, he'd probably just spend the night out on the road somewhere. He perked up a bit and tried to follow Sam's tack and kept quite. By getting drunk early it meant that he didn't have to participate in the far too serious discussion of politics, which was the topic tonight. Pippin used the excuse that he was waiting for Merry and Fatty to arrive before he joined in so as not to have to repeat himself. When in reality, politics, learning about new proposals for flood control, and generally being a respectable citizen bored Pip to no end. He trusted his elder cousins to tell him what to do in important matters. OI! That was it! *Flood Control* That's the plan. How much duller could it get…. He started humming along with the lad who was playing for his supper up near the bar proper. 

It was very common to have someone providing entertainment on any given night. Folks were glad to pitch in a coin or two when a musician or a singer (or both, if the crowd was large enough to warrant) would start to play. Most museos would play for the price of ale or dinner. Others would play for the love of it. Some were good, some were awful, most were tolerated. If they were bad, everyone just talked over them. If they were good, some would join in and sing along. THOSE were the fun nights in Pippin's opinion. He loved to sing and he knew almost every ballad, jig and classic lay that were popular. He wasn't into dancing. Not like Frodo, but he just loved to sing. And he had a nice voice. Sometimes Sam would pitch in and they could fake it at harmonizing (neither was trained but both were good). Sam had to have been drinking quite a lot before he sang in public. Not so with Pippin. He'd sing if anyone asked and sometimes even when they told him to shut up.

He was singing quietly to himself in company to the fiddler. Ah, now this was a good thing…. a gitern player joined in. And the new player could sing. Pip was a tenor. The gitern player was a baritone. Pip rather fancied himself quite good and smiled, content as he alternated between humming and singing softly. Frodo noticed the huge grin creeping over his young cousin's face. He couldn't help but smile himself while countering Sam's most current comment as the youngest cousin began to sing in earnest. 


	7. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Story 1 is about boring old politics. It tells the tale of how our favorite hobbits are starting to come into their own as young adults. Hobbits LOVE comfort, dislike drastic changes, and go in for pomp and ceremony as long as it doesn't get too out of hand; meaning the food and drink don't run out and the speaker doesn't run on. We know from the books that the dark hand of Sauron has already effected Mirkwood (hence the name change) and has moved on into the woods outside of Buckland. It only stands to reason (in my puny mind at least) that the weather in and around the Shire is beginning to be effected also. Two years of sever springtime flooding have upset enough hobbits that some have actually started talking about taking some action to prevent further ruin in the upcoming spring. 

Frodo has quietly taken up the task of inspiring the younger members of some of the more important families into a sort of posse or "focus group" in today's terms. Their job is to convince the voting age members of their families to swing into action and support a Shire wide proposal to levy a tax to pay someone to organize a series of bulwarks, washes, burms and levees to divert the expected flooding come springtime. Though Frodo detests politics and never considered himself very good at it, he actually is a natural for the job. His compatriots respect him, his friends love him and his cousins support him. He is probably the most knowledgeable hobbit in the Shire when it comes to geography and geology as he has spent the better portion of his tweens and 30's and now 40's exploring and remapping what his uncle Bilbo had started a little less than a century before. He is an idealist and truly wants to believe in the best in people, that everyone else has the high morals he has and sometimes can't understand why others don't see the future possibilities that he knows are out there (if they'd just look beyond the noses on their faces!). Because he wants the best for everyone, he often can not find it in himself to finalize a decision for fear of making a grave mistake.

To his rescue come his cousin Meriadoc and his servant turned friend, Samwise. Merry and Sam are very close in age and together they are 180 degrees out in personalities from Frodo. Merry has been Frodo's best friend since he could remember up until Frodo was adopted out of Brandyhall. Though they remained close, distance forced them both to find other friends. Frodo turned to another closer young hobbit, Sam, the gardener's son, to mentor and befriend. Merry turned to a younger cousin, his father's sister's son, Peregrin. While Merry is a natural born leader, not shy about voicing his opinion, and can be resolute (bull headed) when demanding that certain things be done certain ways, until he gets a few years over his majority (and with that more confidence in his leadership abilities) he gives into Frodo's wishes and then works full force to see that the job is finished "correctly". Sam on the other hand loves solitary situations, is terribly shy, and would rather serve than lead. But like Merry, he wants to see the job done right and will not sleep until the task at hand is finished. Though he doesn't realize it, Frodo relies heavily on Merry and Sam to work as a team to finish what he never seems to be able to get around to doing. 

And then there is Peregrin. If Frodo is the Lion, Merry the Beaver, Sam the Labrador, then Pippin is the Otter. Or in terms of a Team Building seminar I once took, Frodo is the CEO, Merry is Logistics, Sam is the Worker and Pip is the Cheerleader. You need all four to keep an office going but you've got to reign in all of them when they get extreme or you've got trouble. Oh, and Pip can be trouble. Aren't you glad that only 3% of personalities are really Pip's? Because his is the personality type to most likely go over the top. Could you imagine if there were more of him??!!!?!!! But like I said, it takes all of them to make a good team.

I've added Fredegar, Lotho and a couple of others to mix it up a bit and to hopefully add some interest.


	8. Support to be Counted On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

With Pippin singing along to the violin and gitern players, Frodo lost track of the argument he used in countering Sam's latest comment. He'd had three ales himself, Pippin WAS rather entertaining and Sam could be very good at arguing the opposite side in a debate. Bless Sam, he remembered everything and tended to think things through before stating his opinion. Though he would talk your ear off given the chance and if he felt in good company. And right now, Sam felt he was in good company; and his counterpoint was solid. If Frodo could just focus on it! My, those ales hit him harder than he'd expected. Should have had a bite to eat before going out. Ah, yes, now he remembered. If a fee were to be imposed, as Frodo suggested, to cover the administration of the new proposal then not a soul would vote for it. It's not that hobbits were stingy with their monies, they didn't like change and there hadn't been a fee imposed for a shire wide proposal since anyone, including old Puddifoot, could remember.

"Sam, surely YOU understand, if we don't appoint someone to implement the flood control proposal, it will be a piece of paper only. It will all be in vain. Someone needs to be encouraged to make it happen. And the best way to do that is to PAY said person and give them a position of honor. And to pay said person, we've to set up a special levy." Sam couldn't disagree with that, the proposal needed to be implemented and making the position "important" AND paying this important person WAS a sure fire way to make it happen. Yet no one would vote for a fee, a levy for a levee, so to speak.

And without pay, who would take over the onerous job of directing the normally staid population into action? It was neigh on an impossible task. One doomed to failure before it started. And failure, at least in Sam's mind meant terrible consequences in the form of possibly more hobbit deaths plus lost livestock and ruined crops if this year's rains were half as bad as last. There were fell winds blowing over the Shire these days, Sam thought, fell winds indeed. something bad was brewing and it bothered him. 

In Frodo's mind not getting the levees built meant failure for the health of the Shire. Plain and simply it meant Failure on his part. And he wasn't used to not getting his way when he finally decided to actually do something (he had trouble making closure on most tasks as the numerous piles of papers, studies, and treatises Sam was constantly attempting to tidy in Frodo's study would attest). Strange though it seemed, no one in Hobbiton saw his determined side. Never thought him as pushy or forward. For he'd learned his tact and diplomacy in Buckland where the Master of Buckland saw great potential in this studious, quiet and sometimes wicked young hobbit. Saradoc was quick to school him on voicing his opinion to elders and those of respect. Quick with stern verbal lessons and if those didn't take (as sometimes they didn't during Frodo's very wild teens) then by brandishing a belt on his backside. But that was in Buckland and in Hobbiton, Frodo was the picture of quiet gentry. No Frodo was never considered untoward by Hobbiton standards. Quite the opposite in fact. Hhe managed to persuade folks of their minds without them even knowing that their minds weren't originally the same as his. Even Frodo didn't realize he was so strong willed as to demand and get his way! Probably the only persons who did were his uncle Bilbo, his uncle Saradoc, and his cousin Meriadoc. Oh, and of course his faithful servant, Sam, and that was only because Sam was himself strong willed. They'd gone at it many a time in the past over small matters (small to anyone else except two mule headed hobbits) before Sam learned that the only ones that mattered were the big ones and he usually seemed to feel the same way about the big things as his master. So, it had been many, many moons since the two disagreed over a serious matter. Just to keep things amusing, Sam had taken the habit of arguing the opposite side. It indeed seemed to amuse Frodo. And the current issue of discussion, even if that foolish young Took paid no heed to its import was certainly significant. This normally unexciting subject of flood control.

There had been terrible floods the previous two springs when several of the small creeks and two of the larger rivers had overflowed their banks. In Sam's mind, this was a disaster beyond all proportion. All told, six hobbits perished ~ perhaps the worst cost, but many smials had flooded, crops were damaged and roads had washed out. Food shortages, difficulties in getting from one farthing to the other and the general horrors that flooding brings took their toll on the Shire folks. Most were willing to listen and consider action. And it seemed the weather was getting more unpredictable every year. It was almost as if, of late, something other than nature controlled the winter snows and summer rains. It surely was a mystery. But what WAS for certain was that the Shire had to gather together and make a decision about levees and burms and managing the rivers and streams so the deaths and damage didn't happen again. 

To that end, Frodo proposed that the Mayor of Hobbiton, the Thain of the Shire, the Master of Buckland and several of the more influencial families band together to present a proposal. This flood control plan needed to be voted upon by the general population. Which meant it needed strong backing before it was even presented for vote. Which meant the up and coming younger generation, who tended to follow Frodo like so many baby ducklings needed to swing their parents into action before the vote was proposed. Voting on such a "different" issue was nearly unheard of in the current Shire hobbits' lifetimes. The last time anyone could recall having a Shire wide vote on a new proposal was after the terrible winter when the Brandywine had frozen solid, the white wolves ravaged the outlying smials, and miscreants had invaded properties causing death and wrecking havoc at homesteads in outlying areas. That spring everyone had voted on increasing the shiriff patrol. Becoming a sheriff had been a grand heroic occupation in the years that followed. Yes, being a sheriff was an honorable profession. And many years later, in these seemingly peaceful times, the honor was still there though it had become merely decorous and usually involved walking the roads to check their conditions and reporting back to the mayor on small issues. But now, flood management was at the top of nearly everyone's list when discussing things other than a neighbor's new paint scheme, the dinner menu, and next week's party. Hobbits were designed to think of comfort first and droll political matters last. But they COULD rise to the occasion when necessary. And right now, in Sam's mind, it was necessary. His father had seen the need but being from the lower class, he felt his comments didn't hold much sway in the political arena and acquiesced to his son's offer to help their Master in his stead.

Both of the Gamgees were knowledgeable about the weather, being master gardeners, and quite reliant on rain and sun. And though he believed it critical to the long term comfort of many a good hobbit, old Gamgee just sat back and shook his head at the idea of raising the entire Shire to participate in a coordinated effort. It would be an endeavor, that was for sure, to concoct the necessary burms, levees and diversions to prevent a third year of flooding as was promised by the heavy snow fall and fey winds. But Sam knew it could be done. He had faith in his Master Frodo. And to some extent in Mister Meriadoc. The two of thems were the smartest and hardest nosed hobbits he knew besides himself. Some folks thought Mister Merry was the most stubborn though both he and Mister Frodo were born and bred Bucklanders. Sam knew first hand just how stubborn Mister Frodo could be.

The last big blow up had been late in the summer when he was 21 and just before Frodo was 33. One particular day they'd both been working long and hard, Frodo with his studies learning to decipher some elvish poetry that Bilbo seemed to think was more important than anything else he could have been doing and Samwise with digging out some very woody pelargoniums that just were not thriving in the shade. Bilbo had been acting peculiar which tended to set both the Gaffer and Frodo in a bad mood. Both were inclined to take it out on Sam. Tempers were short, the day had been hot, the night had not come too soon. Frodo desperately wanted to be outside and Sam badly wished to be inside. When they were both finally released from their "duties" they'd met out front to have a smoke and chat about nothing in particular. Frodo took up a theme that was sore to Sam. He'd been pestering Sam to agree to talk to Miss Rosie Cotton at the upcoming Big Birthday Party. He snapped at Sam when Sam had refused to even consider it. Sam had yelled back that it weren't none o' his business. Days went by and neither would speak to the other. And over such a silly little thing. Frodo had wanted the best for Sam and Sam had wanted to not be pushed. If it hadn't been for the Big Birthday Party, Frodo's Coming Of Age and Bilbo's One Hundred and Elventyeth, then Sam wouldn't have given in and tried to make amends. They probably still wouldn't be talking. But then after Bilbo's disappearance, Sam felt particularly bad, knowing how much Bilbo's abrupt leaving reminded Frodo of his parents death. Frodo had tried to be chipper and put on a good face, but Sam could see that it was a heroic effort. Their inconsequential fight was too much for Sam and he vowed not to let little things stand between them. And he'd stand by his friend through thick and thin (and high water if it came to that)!


	9. Master Debater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

So, given that Samwise truly wanted to help his master and that he had no formal schooling and little experience in politics, he threw his weight into the fight in the only way he knew how, by presenting all the arguments AGAINST the proposal that he heard or could think of. He was being an advocate in hardest way, though it was in a round about manner. Mister Frodo understood this and encouraged Sam's "opposing" views so as to get a firm grasp on what the contentions might be. But Mister Merry despised this style of debate thinking it were good time wasted. 

Sam could be as stubborn as Mister Merry when it came right down to it, so some of the "discussions" had become quite heated when the two went at it. Mister Fredegar and Master Frodo had separated the two on more than one occasion. Young Peregrin usually just goaded Sam and Mister Merry by adding his support to which ever side was flagging. 

He always took life as one large tease, that young 'un did. If'n that lad didn't watch out, he'd find himself cooked like a frog someday. Oh, sure, he were smart enough to realize when someone sprang a trap on him and he's jump like a frog would jump out o' boiling water if'n you dumped it in sudden like. But to boil a frog proper, you just had to set him in warm water and slowly bring up the heat. He'd just relax and think he were in a nice warm bath until it were too late to react and he'd be boiled. That's what was going to happen to Mister Pippin someday mark Sam's words - he'd get himself into something he didn't expect and then he'd be trapped. Sam hoped that for the youngster's sake he learned quick to be less careless of his ways. He was after all, his father's only son and the Old Took would take it mighty hard if something happened to his youngest. That were why, in Sam's humble opinion, the Old Took should be right harder on the lad, trying to keep him in line and out o' trouble. But nothing seemed to deter the youngster's will to be reckless. Sam just shook his head at the thought.

The tune had changed to a rather silly thing and that silly lad was singing along at full force. As were a number of other patrons in about the same state of drunkenness. Still, Sam couldn't help but tap his foot in lieu of outright clapping in time. It was a bawdy song with a double meaning. The kind one had to think about to keep from blushing as in truth there weren't nothin' amiss with the words. This one went something like "My man John had a thing that was long. My maid Mary had a thing that was hairy. My man John put his thing that was long into my maid Mary's thing that was hairy." And they were talkin' on naught but a hair brush of the Mistress's maid, Mary. It's handle had fallen out and gotten misplaced and the Master's man, John found a replacement. Oh, it were an embarrassin' song, it were, going on about "puttin' it in and knockin' it about until John grew weary and sore with the effort and shouted 'A Pox on that hole' " but everyone loved it so and would sing along. Especially Mister Peregrin, who'd sing anytime given half a chance.

Eyes still closed, head still resting on the wall, Mister Pippin was indeed enjoying himself. Sam stopped discussing politics with Frodo to marvel at this youth who *could* have been an entertainer if not relegated to being heir to the Thain, however ceremonial that position might be. Mister Pippin had missed his calling in being born to family known for its aggressive and boisterous opinions. He was terribly gentle and always forgiving. 

And he was THAT good at singing. There was no mistaking it. And he was definitely quite a non-combatant for a Took. Sam could not recall a single time when the youngster had raised his fists in defiance to a slight. Something unheard of in the Took smials, as Tooks were known for their outwardness, ferociousness, and brash approach of doing whatever was necessary to protect the family honor. Peregrin was brash in actions but relied wholly on his charm and his friends to be his champions. Lately the friends had been cousin Meriadoc. And to a lesser extent, he counted on Samwise to help extradite him out of any predicament he managed to get himself in to. Mister Pippin led a charmed life. And sometimes Sam wanted to be the one to remind him with a swat on the rear that one shouldn't just assume others would bail him out.


	10. Hurray, the Gang's (almost) All Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Whilst listening to Mister Pippin sing, Sam finally noticed that Fredigar Bolger was in fact in the pub. Truth be told, Mister Freddy was just finishing at the bar talking it up with the proprietor's wife and was heading over to the table occupied by the two Boffin lads and Frodo's cousin, Lotho. 

Sam pointed out that of course, it were where Mister Freddy'd be, making the rounds, talking with everyone, chatting it up, laughing and joking and picking up some new oddity to discuss over a beer and a plate of cheese, pickles and bread, which he already had balanced on his large forearm as he held his mug in his left hand and used his other to shake hands amiably with Lotho and the Boffins. Deftly not spilling a drop or a morsel. THAT was talent, mused Sam

"Ai, evening all!!!!" huffed Fatty as he meandered on over and pulled up a chair. The largish lad was definitely the jolliest of the group though the least inclined to get drunk. It was perhaps because of his size or maybe because he was also the most inclined to eat everything put in front of him that tended to reduce the effect of alcohol. He enjoyed eating, drinking, chatting, and smoking. And he knew nearly everyone one and everyone's dog and everyone's recent crop plantings and latest purchase and  oh, you name it, if it was gossip, he knew it. He certainly was one to sit by the fire with his pipe and espouse the qualities of this year's pipe-weed crop after spending nearly half the evening enjoying his supper. 

Fatty may have been a tad long winded. But, he had it the easiest convincing his family about the need to vote for the proposal. Most Tooks stilled lived in Tookland. Such clannishness could not be said about the Bolgers. Not all stayed put in their ancestral farthing. Fatty had taken up residence half way between Buckland and Hobbiton. Very close to the Golden Perch actually. He was definitely enjoying his bachelorhood. Still, he delighted in visiting with his folks and jumped at the chance to join the other lads in this latest adventure since it meant at least one of his mum's home cooked meals.

He'd taken a bit longer than the gang expected to visit his folks, discuss the proposal and gain their support. No one faulted him being late. They'd grown to expect this. If you wanted Fatty to show up on Tuesday at noon, you told him the party was on Sunday at 7. Even given this one slight fault, he was wonderful company to invite to any get together. Besides, no one could gather information better than Fatty.

Life was a joy to Freddy, as he was called in his younger days. He was incredibly affable and tended not to worry about things. Except perhaps his next meal. He hated to miss a meal. Or a snack. Or Tea. That would explain his rounded physique, because even for a hobbit, Fatty was pleasantly plump. And had been even as a child. His father could be heard lamenting at any of the numerous family gatherings, picnics, and parties, that his child's goal in life was to eat his parents out of smial and larder. But it was a good natured jest. Fredigar's parents loved him dearly. Obviously so, as they fed him and gave into a number of his requests (usually for more pie please). His good nature came directly from his father, though his mother was a sweet hobbitess, too. The Bolgers were certainly an undemanding lot and generally went along with whatever their friends wanted. 

Fatty was late simply because it took him longer to get anywhere than his slighter cousins. Besides his mother had made a torte that just smelled delectable and he and his father managed to finish off the entire thing with comments of, "why Da, certainly you'd be having another small piece?" and "Certainly, my boy, but I couldn't possibly have another unless you joined me". And to this end they actually ate not only the torte but two pies and a cobbler as well.


	11. Hatching Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Fatty offered around his plate of what some might describe as supper but he called it a "bit to eat". Pickles, cheeses, hard boiled eggs and bread. It was a terrific late snack, one of his favorites. Pippin opened his eyes as the plate passed beneath him. He took a bit of smoked cheese and a spiced beet. 

"Oh, is that a pickled carrot? I'd like one of those, too, please" but as he reached for the carrot, his sleeve caught the edge of the plate and he tipped it upright. Only Fatty's quick reactions saved the lot from hitting the table.

"Never knew he could move so fast" murmured Sam to Frodo as they both watched in awe as Freddy managed to steady the plate, return the food to its rightful position AND keep Pippin from knocking over both mugs of ale as he tried in vain to help.

"Food" was all Frodo said in reply and they both laughed good naturedly. 

"Ai, lad, what a sorry state you're in. I think it's time you got up for a bit of fresh air and worked some of that ale out of your system or you'll be throwing my tidbits on the floor next!" Fatty laughed as he carefully placed the plate on the table and slid it over in front of Pippin.

"I'm not that bad off" but his hiccup betrayed him and everyone roaredl. Trying to unsuccessfully recover his dignity, not that he was ever victorious in this endeavor, Pippin replied, "Oi now, it's been terribly boring and I've only had two." He scratched his head, thought a bit, and added, "well, three". 

Sam just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and Frodo chuckled. It looked like he was going to have a house guest tonight. Really, he had better start doing a better job at keeping an eye on just how much and how fast Pip drank or the Thain wouldn't allow him to watch after the lad. Pippin was, in all honesty, still too young to be hanging out at the Pub all night. But Frodo felt that if he didn't offer to include the youngster then worse would befall the young Took as he was left to his own devises. At least this way, someone with a modicum of responsibility was keeping half an eye on the wild tweenager.

Fatty was shrewd and guessed as much. "Still lad, I suspect you snuck in a half pint while our dear cousin here wasn't looking and he really doesn't know just how much you've had."

Pippin, being Pippin, just turned an amazingly innocent face to Fatty.

"How does he 'do' that!?" laughed Fatty as he stared incredulously at the youngster. Retrieving his plate and both of the mugs, just to get them out of "harms way", Fatty stared back in mock seriousness.

Pippin smiled, closed his eyes, leaned back and started humming again. This time the tune was ballad about a foxhunter. Very soft and sweet*. Once the chorus started, he sang along, quietly. He was listening to the others, though with only half an ear.

Seeing that his food was safe, one cousin was completely inebriated, the other patiently waiting and the servant was content to just sit and watch, Freddy sat back, sighed contentedly and took a sip of his ale. The barmaid with the yellow bodice saw him and came over smiling brightly. They struck up a conversation about her aunt's new tom cat that had caught an absolutely huge vole outside the spring house.

Sam stared down at his ale. Just how could Mister Frodo put up with this lot he called his family? If Sam could have it his way, this whole task of courting favors and swaying alliances, as his master put it, would be done with. But then, he realized that if he had his way, for sure it would be over and the floods would come again, because he didn't have the where with all to see such a tedious and intricate process through to the end. And the end meant all the way to the actual building of the levees and stacking of the burms and dredging of the channels. And that meant mobilizing more than just a handful of relatives. Mister Frodo sure was a smart one. And patient. Too patient sometimes and too forgiving, if he didn't mind saying so himself, which is just how he said it, to himself. He looked over to the hobbit he idolized. Just sitting there, he was, legs kicked out in front of him, hands back behind his head, eyes looking off to who knows where while they all listened half interested as Mister Freddy and the barmaid talked on now about the babe her sister's husband's sister was expecting any day now.

Sam took another swallow of his ale, a handful of the red grapes sitting on Mister Freddy's communal plate and continued to look at his master. Just what was going on behind those hazed over eyes anyways? Probably dreaming again of going off after Mister Bilbo, no doubt. He'd have to watch closer. Mister Merry had pulled him aside just last week to ask him to do just that. Watch. Mister Merry was shrewd. And worried. That much was obvious even to Sam's thick sense. Sam didn't think Frodo would be traipsing off after his uncle this year, but it was beginning to look like he was heading out for something longer than just one of his extended travels. Maybe if Mister Frodo joined the Shirrifs he would satisfy his wanderlust. He could walk about all month, exploring and mapping and gathering information from those who dwelt on the edge of the wilds. Maybe Sam would suggest that. Though, with a shudder, Sam realized it would mean he'd have to join up, too. For he'd not let Mister Frodo out of his sight for that long a time. Someone needed to look after him. He just had no sense when it came time to come in out of the rain, though he surely was the smartest hobbit Sam knew. But those sherrifs could be gone a long time and it would not do to let Mister Frodo be alone for that long. Some of them could be gone away for months at a time. He'd just have to go along, too. But then who'd tend the gardens and Bag End? Sam was in a quandary now. The idea was a good one but there were complications. He'd have to sit on this one and think a bit more. 

Sam startled as a shout from the barkeep got not only his but the barmaid's attention. She hustled off to fetch some other patrons' orders. Freddy turned his attention back to the lads at the table.

General pleasantries now taken care of, Fatty saw it was time to bring up the subject that Lotho had commented almost politely on the proposal when he'd stopped by earlier this evening to chat with him and his friends. "Our cousin, Lotho, thinks he might like to talk to his mother about the proposal, Frodo. He seemed quite interested in the opportunity to get his name listed as an 'instigator' ".

Sam snorted, Pippin stopped singing, and Frodo pulled his feet under him turning with a "go on" look.

"I'm not sure if it's his pride talking or his greed but he's willing to pitch in."

"I suspect it's his mother" sighed Pippin.

"Oh, I don't know. He seemed genuine enough. And we all know how hard it is for Pimple to come off as something as nice as genuine" Freddy replied in an uncharacteristic show of veiled malice towards the Sacksville-Baggins that they all truly lothed. "I don't think it's greed. You know he's been selling pipeweed at inflated prices to some lads out in Bree so he's not hurting for money".

Sam looked up sharply and even Pippin took note. Frodo just continued to sit, calm and collected with that patient "tell me more" look on his face.

Fatty continued "I heard from Primrose Bracegirdle who heard from Mercy Mugwomp who heard from"

Frodo waved his hand and Freddy took the hint, "So, tale has it that Shire pipeweed, and not too bad a quality at that, has been showing up in climes to the south and east of here and that it's one of our own selling it out and under, if you get my drift."

"Just tale, if you don't mind me sayin' so Mister Freddy. My Gaffer always says to not mind second hand talk for it may have come from a untrustworthy source" Proper manners aside, Sam pipped up, not being able to sit still while gossip was being told in his company.

Fatty reached over the table and ruffled Sam's hair, which was something that always disturbed Sam in a way that Sam was never too sure about, should he be flattered that Mister Freddy took notice of him or should he be offended that he was being treated like a tween; which was why Fatty did it. He'd a knack for changing the subject effortlessly to avoid conflicts. Fredigar definitely did not like conflicts. "So, our Pimple would like to throw his handkerchief in the pile and be counted as a 'conspirator' for whatever that's worth." He popped another pickle in his mouth and chewed quietly.

Pippin hiccuped again breaking the silence. Everyone turned in unison to look at him. He gave them a look that said, "what?!"

"Lad, see now, you go get some fresh air and drink some water. You'll be embarrassing us next by dancing on the tables" Freddy heaved Pippin to his feet and gave him a gentle push.

"No, that's Frodo's job" Pippin laughed as he caught himself by steadying his hands on Frodo's shoulders. 

"Now, I like to dance, that's true, but I've never got up on a table, you silly Took! Don't go spreading rumors or others will think they're true and my reputation doesn't need any help, thank you!" Frodo laughed as he nearly fell over under Pippin's unexpected weight.

The change in Frodo's balance threw Pippin off and he dropped to a knee. Frodo caught him up, turned him to the door, and steadied him.

"I'll go out with him to make sure he doesn't drown in the water trough or throw up on anyone we like" ventured Sam, who had caught the look Mister Freddy gave him. Though Sam was wont to say he was dense and didn't catch on fast, he could read these lads like his own family and he knew when Mister Freddy wanted to talk to Mister Frodo alone.

As Sam escorted Pippin to the door, the conversation turned to Lotho, his interest in the proposal, and his possible motives. 

"You are aware, dear cousin, that Lotho Sacksville-Baggins has a keen interest in seeing any adventure of mine fail."

"Still, you do trust my judgement in something like this, don't you, Frodo? I think he's truly sincere. I believe he sees it as a chance to take control of something that will be very successful and therefore receive wide spread popular visibility and claim it for his own idea." 

A seed of thought germinated in both their minds at nearly the same time. Perhaps Lotho would be a good candidate to push for spearheading the instrumentation of the actual plan. None of the cousins really wanted the notoriety that would accompany the success of this event nor the difficulty in seeing it to completion. They were all far too polite or too wise (or in Pippin's case, too naïve).

"If we set it up properly, then he _could_ possibly carry it out" Fatty commented seeing the light in Frodo's eyes.

"Yes, especially if we enlist the Boffins. Between the two of them, they've got one very good head for logistics" Frodo raised his eyebrows and cocked his head signaling his agreement of the newly hatched idea.

"Capital idea, dearest Frodo!" Freddy grinned widely as he winked and slapped Frodo on the back. Frodo grabbed his mug and raised it up, meeting Freddy's over the center of the table. They drained their mugs, laughed out loud at the audacity of proposing their arch rival as Chief Instigator of The Plan and sighed deeply.

"Well onto it now, you know I don't stand a chance with him if I don't act now while I'm half sotted and very willing to let his barbs slide by" Frodo remarked pushing to his feet as Fatty got up to get some more vittles and ale. "Right! What could it hurt?" Frodo said more to himself than anyone else while grabbing Sam's unfinished beer and heading over to Lotho's table.

* The Ballad of the Foxhunter ~ Cherish The Ladies "Threads of Time" 


	12. Lotho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider reading the lyrics to the songs for the chapters. Some are sadly angsty and some are wondrous well.

**Authors Notes:** Consider reading the lyrics to the songs for the chapters. Some are sadly angsty and some are wondrous well.

Frodo took a deep breath and silently thanked his Aunt Esmeralda for insisting he learn how to politely greet relatives who were not exactly his favorites. He sighed quietly and took a small sip of Sam's borrowed beer as he tried to pluck up the courage to approach this creature who never missed a chance to cause him grief. He was loosing his nerve to speak to Lotho and was just about ready to turn away when Finnos Boffin noticed him. Finnos and Haydanos were cousins on his Took side and could actually be quite nice.

"Well if it isn't Frodo Baggins. Hullo Frodo. Care to join us, Hay and I were just telling our cousin about what my brother and I had heard last we were in Broken Borrings, near your old stomping grounds, isn't it?" Finnos started to make room for Frodo to join the table by scooting over a bit and shuffling the three mugs and small empty trencher.

"Ah, Fin, I was just about to order up my supper. Well, now that the invites been done, yes, Frodo, do join us. You're more than welcome to sit seeing how your group seems to have all up and left. Can't have you standing there drinking by yourself now can we?" Sometimes dim when it came to social niceties but generally pleasant, Haydanos could be forgiven his initial complaint as his natural hobbit politeness took over. He and his brother did not share their friend Lotho's contempt for this young Brandybuck called a Baggins. Everyone knew that while Frodo Baggins was truly an odd character, like his uncle Bilbo, he was rumored to be very well off, just like his uncle. And Hay surely enjoyed his times at any party a Baggins threw. He just wished that they would come with the frequency of Baggins Bashes in the past. Since Old Bilbo's strange departure Young Baggins didn't seem to carry on the tradition of the huge birthday parties which had become renown throughout the Shire. Still, he'd been invited to a few of the recent general parties hosted in the field outside Bagshot Row and had always had quite a pleasant time. He wasn't too sure that if his friend Lotho ever got possession of Bag End, as was his frequently stated desire, that the parties would be nearly as grand. He knew Lotho to be a solid Sacksville with a little Baggins thrown in with certainly not any trace of the Took wildness, so, in short, he knew Lotho to be tight with the purse strings.

Frodo cleared his throat and turned on the charm with a flashing smile. "Most kind, most generous. Thank you Haydanos. Good evening Finnos! Hello Lotho, good to see you looking so well. That turn with the cow pox certainly didn't do any damage." Frodo was smooth with the back handed complements. Lotho, not of clear skin, recently contracted the cow pox. It was known to be disfiguring to adults but on Lotho it left less pocks than the pimples. It was so unlike a hobbit to have flawed skin that sitting here next to Fin, Hay and Frodo he could be thought of as ugly in a way, if one were to be so unkind. Certainly, the "compliment" did not go unnoticed by Lotho who had grown up learning the expertise from his sharp tongued mother. But he let it slide by unchallenged. Yes, Lotho was indeed in want of something Frodo had to offer. Frodo wasn't too sure he felt comfortable on this end of a deal with this particular hobbit.

They traded fast simple pleasantries, general, non-threatening queries into family members' health. Fin excused himself to take care of a natural calling, leaving Hay, Lotho and Frodo. No one appeared easy enough to broach the discussion they all knew was the reason for Frodo's spontaneous visit

Pip waltzed in the door much the better for the fresh air, trip to a nearby tree, and a quick dunk of the head in the water trough. He was still shaking the water off his hair when he stopped abruptly inside the doorway. Sam ran right into him with an "umph" and a bitten off curse, something to do with never suspecting someone as slight as the Pipsqueak being so solid. Pip pointed to Frodo sitting amiably with Lotho and the eldest Boffin lad. They both fell silent. With Sam, Pippin stood off to the side in confusion as to whether or not to go sit with Freddy, who had returned to the table with another ale and another plate or to go "rescue" Frodo, as Pippin saw it. They went unnoticed by anyone, the music was loud, the laughter high and quite a few shouts and hails were to be heard as the pub was in full swing.

Frodo tired of the trivialities and the careful dance he played with his cousin. He broached the subject of the Proposal in his most affable voice. "Lotho, it seems we may be in need of some of your experience. You may have heard that a somewhat important, though not simple poll may be considered for general publication soon."

Lotho, scheming already, was ready to brush aside the idle chit chat and come right to the point. His response was not so genial. "Yes, Frodo, it's quite difficult to miss when someone like a Brandybuck has his mouth open. Everyone's in quite a stir over your little "Proposal". I suppose you've come to ask me to help smooth over the uproar you've created?"

Frodo bit back the sharp reply forming. 

But unluckily, Pippin did not. The lad popped up at of seemingly nowhere and voiced loudly about how anyone in their right mind would consider Lotho Sacksville-Baggins as a coconspirator was beyond him as the poorer relations certainly were poorer in not only money but brains as well. He'd definitely had too much to drink. Frodo winced. Lotho seethed. Pippin was on a roll now. Unfortunately for him, Merry wasn't there to slap a hand over his mouth, throw him over a shoulder, shout apologies to everyone and stalk out of the bar like the last time Pippin decided to pick a fight. And Frodo just wasn't quick enough to reach him before he continued "and he's not all Brandybuck! He's a Baggins, same as you, except he's brighter because he's got Took blood in him as well." The Boffins had to smile at this despite the obvious fight brewing.

Haydanos wasn't taken aback. He'd seen the contention between Lotho and his cousin in actual action before. He knew when Frodo had appeared at the table after Fredigar had so jovially bought them all an ale and explained a few of the details of the rumored "Proposal" that things were going to be wonky tonight. Especially after seeing how Lotho nearly jumped into Fredigar's lap at the mention that they needed help to pull it off. But to see this slip of a Took, the Thain's son, no less, attempt to throw his weight around well, Hay knew there was a fight brewing and he knew he wanted none of it. He was planning his escape. He wanted to get up but he was caught between Frodo and Lotho, stuck in the middle, literally and figuratively. He hoped beyond all measure that he didn't get a broken nose or loose any teeth.

Lotho came unglued at the hinges as Frodo did nothing to chastise the insolent tween. He was up and out of his seat in a flash with a look of pure indignation. Lotho was not one to fight with his fists. He was "too delicate" as his mother put it, but he was a big lad, bigger than Pippin. And he was angry.

Now that he was freed up, Hay was working his way out from behind the table too. Though anyone looking on would have thought it was to throw his own significant brawn into the fray and not that it was an attempt to make an escape.

Sam was beginning to really worry now that he'd have to wade in and fetch the lad out of this mess he clearly had no idea he had made. Sam's Gaffer would forbade him to come out in the evenings for a year if he caught wind of his youngest son being in a bar brawl. Stupid Took. Hang them all with a new rope!

Frodo still sat, hands splayed out on the table in front of him, face a mask of calm, as if nothing untoward were happening. "Lotho, dearest cousin. Please sit. You know Peregrin is not serious. He's a Took. He's never serious, you know that as well as any sensible hobbit."

Lotho looked over at Frodo accusingly. He said a very nasty comment about not knowing which was the better side of the family, especially seeing how he was SUPPOSED to be a Baggins. "No wonder my mother and father were so upset when Uncle Bilbo chose you over me for his heir. You're a poor choice to waste all the money on and not even a close relation at that! You're nothing but a wild East Farthing git!"

Now this was just too much for Sam and he tried to step in and defend his master's honor, seeing how Frodo was doing nothing about it and this was degenerating so badly there probably wasn't no way out of it except by being bodily thrown out. "You see here now, Mister Lotho Sacksville-Baggins! Mister Frodo Baggins was given Bag End legally, not because of some misread family tree but because he were right fond of Mister Frodo. And that were because Mister Frodo showed him respect and appreciation and love and that's probably somethin' you've probably never thought about." Sam's fists were clenched at his sides and he was visibly holding himself in check.

Sam's outburst was repaid to a seriously high degree. He got a mouth full from Lotho about not knowing a servant's place. The tongue lashing continued for less than two counts but it seemed an eternity, especially to Pippin who by this time had reasoned that he didn't stand a chance if they took down Sam. He never was good at brawling and he knew Frodo would be minced meat if he stepped in. By this time Finnos had rejoined the group and those Boffins were BIG. Frodo sighed, Hay patted him congenially on the shoulder having been at the receiving end of too many of Lotho's rants. To everyone except Sam and Pippin, it looked like just another shouting match between Lotho and insert-the-currently-out-of-favor-person-here. To Samwise and Peregrin, new to the pub scene at the Old Mother Red Cap, it looked like they were to be diced and sliced and thrown to the pigs.

The music played on, a lively tune*, difficult to understand with it's thickly accented South Farthing brogue. The patrons still shouted amiably and the barmaids still made their rounds. Life went on as usual at the Red Cap.

Lotho finished the tirade with a hiss like a rasher put on a hot griddle. "When I have Bag End, you will most certainly NOT be the gardener!!"

"Oh, as if I'd come beggin' for a job from the likes of you!" Now Sam was spoiling for a round with this no good excuse for a hobbit. His fists came up to the ready. Finnos ducked behind his brother. Pippin stepped back and thought a second time about how he for the life of him couldn't remember how this all started.

Fatty's arm came up and around Sam's shoulder's faster than a cat smelling fish. He moved up so quick that no one remembered seeing him. "Here now lad, what say you and I have an ale and I introduce you for a chat with that lass what's been eyeing you all evening?" Using his ample bulk, he effortless spun the stunned Sam about and started making for the other side of the room, arm still firmly around Sam. In passing the young took, he clamped another meaty arm about Pippin's thin shoulders and without bothering to turn the youngster about marched the two confused hobbits up to the bar, Pippin backwards and Sam stunned, winking at the barmaid who'd served him his last ale. 

Sam hadn't remembered any lass making eyes at him but here was Mister Freddy insisting he meet Amaryllis Sweetwater. He didn't catch what Mister Freddy whispered into her ear as Mister Freddy scooped up the still shocked Mister Pippin and headed to the back of the room. Sam tried to follow but was stopped up short by Amaryllis. "My friends call me Amy." He turned a deep shade of red which only seemed to encourage the bold hobbit lass.

The barstaff was quite used to these quick jousts and responded with amazing speed with 4 new ales to the table now sporting one sitting hobbit and three standing. Taking his cue from his brother who plopped down next to Frodo, Fin sat quickly and took an enormous drink from his mug. Lotho was beginning to feel the fool for being the only one standing when all in need of abuse had either left or remained seated.

"Now, cousin, would you care to consider lending your expertise to this greatly needed venture or should I find someone more desirous of recognition" Frodo had put aside all pretenses to hit the point home. He was in a hurry before his anger took over where Sam had left off.

Lotho sat in silence mulling over the thought, trying to figure out just how he could put down this upstart and still manage to take over this already well organized and nearly finished, heading-for-success plan.

Frodo was content to let his cousin stew. He watched, somewhat amused as Sam tried to extricate himself from the obviously teasing bar maid. He started a bit when he noticed that the barmaid with the infamous yellow bodice (how could he miss that color even clear across the room) was actually sitting astride Pippin's lap with her hands combed through his hair. The look on Pippin's face said he wasn't going to last long with her experience. Ah, that Freddy. He was a marvel. How he could set up all this fun in just a few moments was beyond Frodo! He stifled the laugh that was threatening to break his studied concentration. It would spoil the effect he was having on Lotho. He'd finally learned how to deal with the twit. Calm silence or even calmer steady repetitious comments. Quite like talking to a toddler. 

Silence still settled at the table of The Near Fight. Frodo'd had enough of Lotho for this round. "Think on it, cousin. I've another in mind, but I thought you might like first crack at it, seeing how you ARE family and all." He left the mug on the table, nodded at both Boffins and proceeded to save Sam from sure humiliation.

With a contrite Sam following close behind, Frodo wandered a bit, nodding at friends, shaking a few hands. Freddy was no where to be seen. Poor Pippin was so out of his depths with the barmaid turned vixen that Frodo was of two minds. Should he step in and prevent Pippin from embarrassing himself or should he just sit back and watch the wonderful show?

It was obvious to the barmaid that she could handle anything this youngster should throw at her, he was incredibly inexperienced. He didn't even know enough to try and unlace her bodice. She was enjoying this as much as the lad! How funny that her friend Fatty should ask her to pounce on this little mouse

Frodo had made up his mind. He grabbed the barmaid around the waist as she was going in for another kiss that would surely be the last thing Pippin remembered before he exploded from sheer pleasure. She turned in his arms, accepted the much more experienced kiss from the older lad and took her cue that her performance was over. She'd have a nice tip waiting for her when this lot left tonight, she smiled knowingly as she flounced back to the bar. Pippin was breathing so hard, Frodo had to wait a full set of songs before he could get the lad's attention proper. The serious dressing down about manners was a lost cause.

End Chapter 12

* Tranent Muir ~ The Tannahill Weavers "Best of 1979 - 1989"  
It is VERY lively. This is one of the Scots' great battle songs. One verse is  
**"The bluff dragoons swore blood and oons they'd mak' the rebels run man  
** And yet they flee when them they see and winnae fire a gun man  
They turned their backs the fit tae crack such terror siezed them a' man  
Some wet their cheeks some fyled their breeks and some for fear did fa' man"


	13. Merry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Frodo looked up as Fatty rejoined the group. With a chuckle he commented, "Trust you!? After what you did to Samwise and Peregrin, I will never turn my back on you"

"Ai, Frodo! Samwise can take care of himself, or at least he should learn how. Amaryllis meant no harm, she knows Miss Rose Cotton would have her head if she really tried anything!"

Sam visibly choked. Frodo and Fatty couldn't help but laugh outright at his reaction. Though Frodo felt terrible for teasing his friend so and ducked his head to hide his grin. Still it was so easy to see Sam was enamored of Farmer Cotton's daughter but too shy to do anything about it.

"And Peregrin is just too much fun. I didn't realize our sweet Pip wouldn't be able to take THAT sort of attention. I nearly howled at his reaction when Aubrieta actually sat on his lap. And then when she planted that first kiss, it was obvious he had no clue. I hadn't expected her to go as far as she did. Oh, I hope I haven't created a monster with this prank. You know how fast Pippin acts on an idea once it's in his head that it can be done." Freddy pulled a face in fake horror.

"You saw it? I couldn't find you" 

"I was right behind you, cousin. Actually, right behind Samwise. I may be large but I've learned to blend in quite well, don't you think?" Freddy was proud of himself, this much was apparent. Frodo was proud of him, too. A disaster avoided and two very well executed pranks all in one evening. Pippin had finally calmed enough to breath normally and had promptly fallen asleep. It was a good thing, too, because he wouldn't have taken kindly to hearing that Fatty had set up the encounter. Frodo was sure Pippin would think it was his extreme charm and powerful good looks that had garnered Aubrieta's attentions. Sweet, silly, naïve lad.

Yes, Pippin was naïve. But wily. And kind. Too kind to garner a grudge and too carefree to take life seriously enough to warrant remembering a grievance made against him. He was the youngest of a large group of cousins who had paved the road ahead of him. He took a lot of good natured abuse and he learned from their pranks on each other. Like feigning sleep to listen to things said about him. He gladly sucked up any lesson in pantry raiding, sister-baiting, and parent-pandering his elders provided. Frodo taught him to climb and swim (dangerous but exhilarating hobbies), Merry taught him to lie and get away with it (thus saving him the agony of a paddling on many an occasion), and Fatty had taught him to raid pantries stealthily (useful as with Fatty now being "full grown" Pippin was expected to bring the goods at impromptu picnics). Pippin was set as far as he was concerned. And he was now old enough to join his friends at the pub. It was indeed GOOD to be the son of the Thain and the youngest of the cousins. He got away with murder so to speak. And at this very moment, his head reeling, he couldn't pretend to sleep any longer. The music was thrumming through him and he raised his voice in song with a grin on his face, he was enjoying the evening immensely.*

At least until Meriadoc decided to make his appearance and force Peregrin into consciousness. 

"OI! Frodo, Fatty, PIPPIN, my lad! What do you have to say for yourselves?" Merry nearly unseated everyone at the table with his overly loud greeting. They'd all been so caught up in Pip's singing that they hadn't seen Merry enter, order an ale, drink it down, order another and slide on up to the table. He took Pippin's half full mug and drained it before settling back into his own full one. "I thought you would be canvassing the lot here for votes on the proposal!!!"

"HEY!!!! YOU!!!!" Pippin, alarmed at loosing his ale sat up, grabbed his mug and stared disbelieving into it's empty depths. Merry simply waved his hand to the barmaid signaling another ale.

"You appear to be in a grand mood, cousin" Frodo laughed as he reached across the table and stole Merry's mug to give to Pippin. Sam just shook his head. He had grown up with the Cotton lads as friends and they were none too easy with their ale nor their money. Sam was still not quite used to Frodo and his cousins' effortlessness in paying for and drinking up any and all rounds. There was definitely a difference here between his down-to-earth upbringing and their upper-class tartness but he didn't mind. He generally enjoyed their company once he had learned some of their shared secret language of jibes, side-looks, and audacious jests. Sam was learning to take anything a Took, Bolger, Brandybuck, and to a lessor extent a Baggins (at least when in the company of a Bolger, Brandybuck or Took) said with a grain of salt.

"Mister Merry, did you get anywheres with your 'mission', if'n I might be so bold?" Sam asked, having learned if he didn't jump right into the fray, this lot would digress into idiotic comparisons of the barmaids' skirts or some equally ridiculous off subject conversation. Well, maybe not Mister Frodo. When HE was on task, one might expect the job to be done right and proper. And the same might be said of Mister Merry, if'n the matter were serious enough. But only in a round about way with Mister Freddy. And never with young Pippin. And CERTAINLY not with any two of them together!!!! Sam felt he was the only responsible one of the group sometimes and had to bring them all back to Middle Earth lest they forget that they were supposed to be solving the Shire's flood problems right now.

"Aye, right, that I did, Samwise!" Merry answered while taking his pipe and pouch out of his jacket pocket. The barmaid returned with the new beer, set it down and placed a hand suggestively on Merry's shoulder. He immediately stopped tamping his pipe and flashed a smile up at the pretty server. MY, wasn't that a nice set of  bodice decorations, he thought as Pippin began quietly to sing along with an ever so poignant song**. 

The gitern player dropped down a key and began to harmonize in earnest when he realized that Pippin knew the song and was singing the melody far better than he could. The place quieted down. And the clear clean strains of the saddest song many of them had heard all month lilted out into the night air. Pip was oblivious to the other singer's harmony and the crowd's silence. He was in his own little place, having downed half the ale Frodo had put in front of him (Merry's original) in one draught so as to keep Merry away from it.

The song ended and the crowd burst into applause. The gitern player smiled wildly as those hobbits near enough clapped him on the back and encouraged him by dropping a few coins to "play another" to get the Took to sing again. Pip just sat happily humming the last verse again to himself, now leaning rather heavily on Frodo. Thinking on the soon to be insensible Pippin, Frodo put his arm around his cousin, drew him in to steady the lad and brought the conversation back to reality. 

"So, Merry, did you achieve your ends, will Buckland contribute?" Frodo asked as Pippin's head fell solidly against his shoulder. Everyone smiled despite themselves. Then Sam and Freddy laughed. Merry snorted. Frodo lifted Pippin's head and blew on his face to test the reaction. He lifted an eyelid. Out. Hard. Frodo just smiled. He was thinking about how he was going to get Pippin back to his smial without an enormous effort. Ah, well, he'd enlist Sam's help and they'd haul him to Bag End and put the lad in one of the spare rooms. The Old Took knew his youngest was out with Frodo and trusted that the sometimes frivolous lad would come to no great harm.

Shaking his head in utter amazement that Pippin didn't even last 5 minutes after his arrival, Merry launched into a detailed discussion on why he was late. It had taken him the better part of 8 hours broken up over 2 days to convince his father, the Master of Buckland, three of his uncles and two of his father's best friends that the proposal brought up by a Hobbiton lad (though Frodo WAS a family member) to the mayor at the last Shire Council meeting was indeed worthwhile to the Brandybucks. Truth be told, if it wasn't for the current youngest generation of Baggins, Burrows, Gamgees, Bolgers, Brandybucks and to a very minimal extent the Tooks (mostly sister Pimpernel because Peregrin was acting oblivious to the current undertaking when asked to pitch in), working together, then nothing probably would be done about the flooding and there would most likely be another disaster this coming spring. Folks often complained about the younger generation not being "up to leaf" and being carefree and worthless when it came to manners, traditions, common sense, and serious matters, but the youngsters could pull together and work out mighty tough problems if two or three of them convinced the rest. It was always the same, generation after generation.

Lotho approached the table casually with Hay in tow partly because he couldn't resist overhearing Merry's loud bragging and partly because he really did want to be part of the parcel but didn't want to seem anxious. Hay was good for his moral. Having someone following him made him feel important. Hay could care less. He was just there for the entertainment. Frodo was the first to acknowledge the truce. "Hello cousins. Superb music tonight, don't you agree?"

Hay nodded yes and looked to sit down as Merry started to make room.

"Yes, cousin, though I appreciate the quiet now" Lotho nodded to Pippin sound asleep on Frodo's shoulder. "I've thought it over and decided that in order to ensure this little task of yours isn't grossly mismanaged, that I would offer my assistance to see it through to the end."

"Oi, what's that smell? Excuse me, Lotho, it's you!" Merry unintentionally stepped on himself and everything Frodo and Freddy had worked out by blowing off Lotho's proffered assistance in a way that was INTENTIONALLY meant to anger the youngest Sackville-Baggins. Merry was never on friendly terms with Lotho especially since Lotho made no bones about picking on Frodo every chance as presented itself. Merry was related to Lotho nearly as closely as he was related to dear old Bilbo, but there was definitely not one smidgen of any desire to address this Pimple as family. He delighted in baiting Lotho because Lotho could turn such interesting shades of purple, red, and white and never lift a finger to rouse Merry to blows. It was the best situation for one who had Merry's temperament. But tonight, he'd spoken out when he should have kept his mouth shut. Frodo hadn't the chance to warn him and now it looked as if the whole plan would come crashing onto the table in little spit out pieces of nastily said insults because Lotho was now unbelievably angry. 

"Merry" cautioned Frodo but it was lost in the rebuff from Lotho.

Merry's taunt was too much for Lotho, who like Merry, had a hair trigger temper, and like Merry hadn't learned to curb it in certain situations. He voiced loudly that since the littlest Brandybuck at the table was the last pup to join the motley litter perhaps he'd better check with his elders as to just who was to be in charge of the new proposed adventure. 

Frodo and Freddy looked cautiously at each other as this caught Merry's attention and as Lotho did not look intent on backing down. Sam tensed up watching Frodo ready to protect him with his own body if need be. This night was wearing him thin, thought Sam. For an evening that were supposed to have been full of ale and good conversation, he'd about had it with Mister Frodo's relations. He was glad most of his still lived in the North Farthing if this is how one's cousins acted.

Lotho continued to glare viscously at his third cousin twice removed. Merry, though roused, flatly ignored him which was a practiced approach to calm his rising temper. Whether it was sheer stupidity on Lotho's part or a calculated plan to start a fight and hope to worm his way out, no one knew. He stepped forward and challenged Merry to take back the original slight.

Now everyone was stunned into silence. The sounds of the pub seemed to crash in around them, with people laughing loudly and the museos wailing away slightly off key of each other. Hay was flabbergasted. Surely Lotho didn't expect HIM to fight Merry. Unfortunately for Hay, Lotho usually anticipated that Hay would do just that, fight his fights for him. But not with Meriadoc Brandybuck. He was not insane. Nor did he have a death wish. He knew about the time Merry had nearly throttled Sandyman's son. He'd been there in the crowd watching Frodo work a miracle and back down the crazy Brandybuck. No. He'd not fight this one. Hay turned on his heel and walked out of the pub.

Lotho failed to notice that his main backup had departed. Because Merry ignored his latest demand, he boldened and actually pushed Merry's shoulder. The effect looked something akin to a 5 year old trying to get his way with a much older child. 

Merry still ignored him. Now that his third half pint in less than a half hour was ingested Merry was well on the way to joining Pippin on Frodo's shoulder. He didn't want anything to spoil his success that evening, including the Pimple. Frodo had told him once that the best way to deal with Lotho was to ignore him. And it was working. Merry was seriously feeling quite warm and muzzy and Lotho's incessant buzzing was fading out. Until Merry found himself on the floor beside his chair. Lotho had tipped him out.

Frodo dumped Pippin unceremoniously towards Sam and started to bodily drag Merry off his arse and outside. This was too close, even for Frodo. Merry could flash a fire with just his eyes when triggered and Lotho, fresh from having achieved what he deemed a major victory against Frodo by gallantly offering to clear up what he termed 'Frodo's Mess' hadn't a clue how close he'd come to getting his eye blacked.

Pippin flopped into Sam's lap as Frodo succeeded in getting Merry out of the pub into the fresh air before any violent incident occurred.

"I've no idea why those Tooks and Brandybucks can not behave better in public" Lotho casually asked Freddy. He had always like Fredigar, they were cousins after all, on the good side of the family. The Bolgers had good sense even though some of them married into the Tooks, even just recently.

Freddy said nothing to agree or disagree, he had no desire to continue this name calling yet he wisely played Lotho along so that the newly hatched idea of using Lotho and keeping him too busy to bother anyone wouldn't go astray.

"If old Uncle Bilbo had just left matters well enough alone and kept the Brandybucks where they belonged, then we here in Hobbiton would have a more quiet and pleasurable life, wouldn't you agree?" Lotho continued.

Sam didn't agree. He knew exactly to whom Lotho referred. The weasel constantly called Sam's master a Brandybuck whelp and insisted he weren't a proper Baggins (as if Mister Lotho were!). It was an obvious gibe though Sam knew Mister Frodo weren't ashamed of being half Brandybuck. So many things had been thrown at Sam tonight, he'd had about enough. He jumped up thinking to defend his master. 

Pippin jolted up at the sudden jostling, caught himself across the thighs with the edge of the table as he tried to stand and sat down hard. He tried once again to stand and in his confusion, managed to get up and move from the table but lost his balance and plopped back into a nearby chair. The chair tipped and he fell forward. His face hit the edge of the table with a resounding 'thwack'. A tinge of blood welled on the red welt and he blinked his eyes in bewilderment. What had he done to get popped in the head so hard? He finally managed to stand up straight in his attempt to get a better look at whom he was supposedly fighting. 

"Oh no! Master Pippin, sit back down. Tsk tsk, look what's happened, lad, I've gone and given you a cut" Sam said groping for his handkerchief while waving a hand in front of the still standing Pippin trying to see if the lack of focus in Pippin's eyes was due to the beer or the knock. 

Pippin focused right on Sam's hand, as he could sometimes do even when so very drunk, and said quite indignantly, "say again, Samwise? You did this? Why did you hit me, was I really that rude?"

"No, no, you weren't rude at all. And I didn't hit you, you hit yourself"

"I did this? How is it, pray tell me, that I can possibly use my own fist against my own face?"

"Nay, lad, it were that table what did it."

"Aye? The table hit me? Go on, you ninny, a table's got legs, not fists."

Freddy, who'd stood up to catch the lad incase he fell again lowered Pippin to the bench. 

"If it wasn't you, are you sure it wasn't the chair? It's got a seat and legs and a back and arms. Could have been the chair" Pippin mused thoughtfully.

Freddy was laughing so hard now that he didn't even notice Sam hadn't found what he was looking for.

"Oh, why did I get out of bed this morn?" moaned Sam as he still couldn't find his handkerchief, the cut was now beading up, and Pippin was not making sense.

Lotho begrudgingly handed over his handkerchief to clean up Pippin's cut. He was astonished that the little Took could have stood after such a whack against the table and still come up with something as funny as what he'd just said. Though he wasn't feeling sorry for Pippin, Lotho did have some natural hobbit politeness that sometimes surfaced when he was surprised.

Frodo returned with a much calmer and smirking Merry who had been let in on the newest ploy to keep Lotho out of their hair and still get the proposal implemented. 

Merry nearly walloped Lotho on the spot at the sight of them all standing with Sam dabbing the angry looking welt Pippin's face. 

Frodo quickly stayed Merry's arm and asked for an explanation. 

Sam recited how he "accidentally" dumped Master Pippin to the table edge, that were all. His look of guilt for holding back the information that he had tried to start something with Lotho was hidden by his shame for hurting young Pippin. Oh what was a Gamgee to do? Bitten if he did, stung if he didn't, in reference to the old tale that if you became trapped by an ill tempered badger blocking the only escape you had from a swarming hornets' nest, you couldn't win regardless of your choice. Frodo understood he wasn't getting the whole story but Hay and Fin had long disappeared and Pip was too bewildered to fess up. Lotho and Freddy only agreed with Sam. Well no sever harm done, he'd let it all go for now.

Merry suspected something, Samwise never looked guilty for no reason at all. And considering the look on Lotho's face and how Freddy usually stayed out of any physical fight, he surmised that Sam had had a run in with Lotho and was coming to the conclusion that somehow Pippin had gotten tangled up in it. He'd about decided that using Lotho on this project was more trouble than it was worth and started to say as much right to Lotho.

Fatty came to the rescue and with his silk and honey voice smoothing over the matter. He whisked Lotho away to buy him a round and to chat about some leaf his father had to sell and he KNEW Lotho would find him a good market especially for a larger than average cut of the percentage.

*** Jolly Read Nose ~ Poxy Boggards ~ "Bawdy Parts"**

**** The Bonny Swan ~ Loreena McKennitt ~ "The Mask and Mirror"**  
a hauntingly beautiful song about betrayal and murder for love


	14. Frodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pub Series is a group of stories set in a pub. I wanted to call the Pub 'The Wounded Cock', but other's thought that a tad tasteless (hmfpf!). So, being a linguist, I called it 'Old Mother Red Cap'. Really, that's the name of a bar in England. I was inspired to do this series because of some real events that happen in the day to day life at the Green Man Inn. This one is about Frodo taking the task in hand to start the younger cousins on the way to being more involved in Shire politics by getting them to work together on a proposal for flood control. Whoa! THAT sounds boring. It is. The "Plan" is not the focus of this story. The character development and Pippin being far too cute for words are the focus.

Frodo knew this proposal would benefit every single hobbit in the Shire and if they experienced another spring like the last, then implementing the measure would save lives. Perhaps even the life of one of these dear hobbits sitting with him. 

He studied his friends. Sam was covertly eyeing the Cotton's youngest daughter Rosie, who was sitting with her brothers, Sam's good friends from his childhood. The look on Sam's face was priceless; something of a cross between sheer wanton desire and utter terror. Good old Sam! Frodo thought he'd have to do something to get those two together…. "Sam, why don't you go over and chat with the Cotton lads now? It's been ages since you've spent time with them and I don't think we'll be talking about anything deterministic for a bit."

"Don't see where it would do any harm and I just might get some information that may be useful, too" Sam agreed; for once not countering automatically. 

Ah, young love, it was so sweet to watch. Frodo turned back to the others as Sam hefted himself to his feet and meandered on over to Rosie and her brothers.

Fatty and Merry were deep in discussion about the newest strain of pipe-weed seed rumored growing somewhere out near the southern wilds. 

"If it's as good as that seed Old Sedgewood perfected five years back, it might be a rival to Longbottom. Though when rolled and cut it's not nearly as stout. And there's the problem of broomrape. Those tiny white and purple flowers may look pretty but they really attack the plant and suck out all it's vitality. Not many other strains seem nearly as effected as Sedgewood's Gold. I wonder where this new seed came from?" 

Merry should become a gentlehobbit farmer, he was getting as good at plant identification as Sam, Frodo mused. His herb lore was expanding to the point where Frodo had heard Merry talking about writing it down someday. Frodo would have to encourage this. There really weren't any decent books out there on Shire herbs. It would be a great asset to later generations. And quite possibly something an elf or two might like to see.

"It came from out there in the West Farthing. Heard it was a collaboration between the Brownwinks and the Sikeses. Seems it only grows well out there, though everyone in the South is looking into it" Fatty was saying in answer to Merry's question. 

"Go on."

Normally Merry could care less with the West Farthing as it was the furthest from his homeland and the Brandybucks tended to worry only about their (agreeably VERY extended) family. But tonight he was on a roll. Flushed with the victory of convincing his father and his father's friends to agree to a point normally not even considered by Brandbucks, plus with his adrenaline still cranked up, Merry was keyed tight. He was tapping the table top lightly with two fingers. He could get wrapped around the cart's axle like a dropped rein when it came to challenges and that is why Frodo had handled the Buckland side of things differently than he'd worked the Tooks, Bracegirdles, Boffins, Proudfoots, and other large family holdings. He'd let Merry have full lead. Just turned him loose with an idea and a deadline.

Merry had done quite a bit of the foot work laying out the foundations for the upcoming vote. He was coming into his own in the politics of the Shire, something his father, no doubt, was overjoyed to see. Merry enjoyed a challenge and Frodo had learned early in their youth at Brandyhall that to get Merry to act, one need only offer a challenge. In fact, there was a time, just before Merry came of age where Frodo had worked exceedingly hard to keep challenges AWAY from Merry. Too much of a temper and very little self control. That incident with Paddy Bracegirdle!*

Fatty delved into a long dissertation about how the locals in the West Farthing were constantly expanding their knowledge and expertise on leaf. Fatty knew everyone's name, everyone's favorite varietal, every single snippet of information about anyone dealing with pipeweed. He wasn't a gossip but he surely knew everything about everybody. So many people liked affable, loveable Fatty. He was good and solid and kind and always willing to help. Especially if the reward was an invitation to a meal! Frodo dearly loved his cousin Freddy who had been instrumental in getting this proposal rolling.

And then there was sweet Pippin. Frodo closed his eyes and ever so slightly shook his head in disbelief at the youngest Took sleeping soundly wedged up in the corner of the bench and the walls. Curls in his face, shirt still dishelved from his encounter with Aubrieta and cheek starting to color from his go around with the table. Innocent smile on his face. Nothing ever seemed to rile Pip. He was one of the reasons Frodo enjoyed his life at quite, slow, Bag End after having moved there from the boisterous and overwhelming Brandyhall . Frodo had been assigned, unknowingly to Frodo at first (but he figured it out after it had been accepted by everyone else as de facto) to watch over the Thain's son. It was quite underhanded, his uncle Bilbo would have said, when one considered the difficulty of making sure the young impractical Took stayed out of trouble whenever Pippin left Tookborough and headed out into the world. Which, as Pip got older turned into quite a job! Looking after Pippin, some folks, especially his sisters, considered an arduous chore. But when Pip entered a room, the lights shone brighter and the mood danced a bit higher. He was undeniably the gentlest hobbit ever in creation. And he adored his cousin Frodo. He would do anything to garner Frodo's approval. He never lied to Frodo, never intentionally skipped a meeting date, and certainly never sassed him with rudeness in mind. Of course, he'd rib Frodo any chance he got, but that was because he knew he was Frodo's favorite youngster and he used that fact to his advantage.

Indeed, tonight was sweet. "I am blessed", Frodo mused. "The kindest of friends, the easiest of times, what more could a hobbit ask for?" It was a privilege to be in his position and he appreciated it. This is what he enjoyed doing the most and he hoped he'd never find himself doing something he really didn't want to do.

* * *

*See my story "Killer Instinct" to read about Merry's incident with Paddy Bracegirdle.


End file.
